Rekindling The Flame: Part 1
by saaski10
Summary: An epic series detailing the early life of Cael Bjornsson, the Last Dragonborn. Taking 19 years before the events of Skyrim, a group of Thalmor has been tasked with destroying the fledgling Stormcloak organization, and have learned from an informant of a group operating out of a small tavern on the shores of Lake Illinalta. Needless to say, blood will spill. Continued in Part 2.


**Rekindling the Flame: Part 1**

saaski10

_19 years before the Dragon Crisis_

At night, the town of Falkreath sat as quiet as the dead that lay in its famed graveyard. The mist of the Pine Forest blanketed the ground in a soft embrace, adding an almost subconsciously eerie feel to the wooden buildings and cobblestone streets that detailed the town. The soft, irregular thud of a limping stride broke the silence. The man wore the leather and green cloth uniform of a Falkreath guardsman, but was unusually short and lanky for his position. Blood dripped from the edge of his helmet, and his tan skin was barely recognizable with the severe bruising blotching it like a tapestry. The guardsman stopped at the town gate, taking shelter underneath the arch of the small portcullis. The guard quickly scanned the surrounding wood with quick, darting eyes. After making sure no one had awoken to his presence, the man returned his attention to the wood.

"Does Talos thrive in Alinor?", the man uttered, exhaling a sizable amount of blood. The wood shifted, and a dozen yellow eyes appeared from the bushes. Several tall, yellow-skinned High Elves emerged from the brush, their golden, flowing armor moist with dew. Behind them, a regal figure in the distinctive black and gold robes of a Thalmor Wizard strode forward and presented himself to the guard, a sharp scowl strewn across his face.

"No, he does not. We will stamp out his existence wherever it may be, even here in this Gods-forsaken land of rain and snow. Hail to the Dominion, Wendrin."

The Wizard's words were like ice. Apprehensively, the guardsman removed his helm, revealing the pointy ears, beige skin, and bony features of a Wood Elf.

"Hail to the Dominion, Tanarion. I'm surprised the humans didn't see through this disguise.", said Wendrin, gesturing to his torn cuirass.

"Yes, as am I. We all know that humans are dull blades when it comes to smarts, Nords and Redguards especially. Bretons and Imperials are barely any better. I'm surprised they were even able to read the Treaty of Stros M'Kai. But I digress…"

Tanarion's sharp gaze broke Wendrin's cool. He shifted uneasily. Dealing with the Thalmor was never a smooth process, especially considering his sister had married into a Breton family. The Thalmor took racial intermingling very seriously.

"What progress have you made regarding the Bluntfyre Inn? I take it our suspicions were correct?"

"Yes, Tanarion. I found a shrine to Talos in the basement, as well as anti-Thalmor militia plans and insignias. Although the owners, the Bluntfyres, let me go without any problems, some of their more… inebriated patrons set upon me once I stepped off the porch. Many of them had militia insignia on their clothing. We can assume that they are Stormcloaks, a pro-Talos, pro-secession group that recently reclaimed Markarth from the Reachmen. They were mainly Nord, but there were a few Redguard mercenaries and a single Dunmer…"

Tanarion grimaced.

"A Dunmer?! Worshipping Talos?! Disgusting."

Wendrin coughed up more blood. Tanarion ignored him.

"The inn itself lays just south of Lake Illinalta, about a league and a half away. What do you plan to do, Tanarion?", asked Wendrin, wiping his mouth.

One of the armored High Elves whispered to Tanarion. Tanarion listened and began to nod.

"… I agree, lieutenant. It is settled. We shall raze the Bluntfyre Inn to the ground on the grounds of illegal Talos cult worship and conspiracy against the Aldmeri Dominion. The humans will be hung, or won't make it out. We'll take the Dunmer, interrogate him, and send operatives into Morrowind to 'cleanse' his family."

"If I may, sir, there were children present…"

"And? We have enough problems with our Imperial lapdogs. If these Nord animals run wild, they'll have to be put down eventually. It's inevitable."

Wendrin held back his feelings of contempt. Even though he had no love for men, the murder of innocents would have repercussions on view of the Empire in Skyrim, which was beginning to falter after the worship of Talos was banned.

"…alright, sir, but why exactly are you telling me this?"

Tanarion motioned to two of his men. They took the Wood Elf by the arms and forced him to kneel. Wendrin struggled and tried to yell, but was met by an armored fist. Antarion smirked.

"Because I know that you won't be telling or writing to **anyone **about our plans. Hold him."

The soldiers tightened their grip on the wriggling Wendrin, who desperately looked around for anyone to help him. Falkreath looked on. Tanarion raised his arms, tapping in to his vast Magicka resources. His fingers began to twitch and spark as the raw magical power passed from his body through the air towards its intended target. Wendrin's hands spread open, his fingers touching one another. Tanarion thrust his left hand towards the Wood Elf. On command, the tan skin of the Wendrin's hands began to meld to one another, fusing his fingers together into a ghoulish mass. Wendrin's eyes widened in horror, but before he could let out a scream, Tanarion thrust his right hand out. The soldiers looked on in disbelief as the Thalmor Wizard ripped the tongue from the Wood Elf's mouth. Wendrin hollered out into the night, which was met with the barking of the watch hound. The lieutenant looked back towards Falkreath, which was beginning to stir with the activity of the guards.

"Sir, the town is going to be all over us if we stay! We need to go now!"

Tanarion cursed.

"And to think I was going to let you live for your service to us. It doesn't matter anyway. Your whore of a sister would've had your family purged regardless. Now you know what that Dunmer and his family are going to deal with. Hail to the Dominion, Down with the Empire."

With that, Tanarion released his ethereal grip on Wendrin. He collapsed, wailing with a tongue-less mouth. The Thalmor men fled up the North road towards Lake Illinalta, where their original target lay. As the Falkreath guard made their way to investigate, the lieutenant loosed an arrow towards the gate. It pierced Wendrin's guard mail and passed through his heart, silencing him. The guards arrived on scene and marveled at the grotesque scene that lay before them.

"Hronar, do we report this to the Jarl?" asked one of the guardsmen.

"…No. Judging by this arrow, it seems like a Thalmor conflict. Best we don't get involved… we've got enough issues brewing with Ulfric's men already. Leave the body in the Pine for the wolves."

The guards did as they were told, and returned to their posts. Slowly, the mist returned and blanketed the cobblestone streets, returning the subconsciously eerie feel to the town. Once again, Falkreath sat quiet like the dead in its graveyard, but this time there was no soft thud of a limping stride to disturb the silence.


End file.
